


you could go anywhere but you stay here

by qrizzly



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrizzly/pseuds/qrizzly
Summary: The world is so messy and jumbled that Connor doesn't even know what exactly he's mad about anymore.





	you could go anywhere but you stay here

The world is so messy and jumbled that Connor doesn't even know what exactly he's mad about anymore.   
  
He was hoping that it would take his household at least five dinners with Evan before an argument -- or at least a big one -- sparked into a flame in front of the one person he can  _finally_  call a friend. Predictably, though, the universe isn't so merciful.  
  
He expected Zoe to be the one that started it, what with all the muttered, bitter comments she tends to spit at him over horrible vegan casserole. It was those comments today, in fact, that made a crackling anger begin to boil in his chest, unusually large and consuming. Zoe tends to do that: push and push Connor until, before he can  _just_  teeter off the edge, she finally lays off. Connor doesn't know if it's worse to explode or to keep that explosion inside of you and wait until it dies down.   
  
Either way, he does know that once he took a look at his friend sitting behind him, his knuckles white against the seat, eyes wide and darting between the siblings, Connor knew that he should just scratch at his bouncing leg and bite back his curse-laced retaliations.  
  
But it was Larry, this time, who added gas to the flame, who moved his stone mouth to take Zoe's side instead of doing something helpful, like attempting to calm down the argument. Not that Cynthia wasn't already doing that, because she was, but her fruitless words only rang as panicked gibberish to Connor's ears.  
  
In retrospect, it was probably about something small and typical, like taking off Connor's door again or confiscating his phone or whatever. At worst, he's able to handle stuff like that by fleeing to his bedroom and sulking until he falls asleep at three AM -- but an unexplainable frustration had been picking at him throughout the entire day. He couldn't name a reason for it, but it was there, and it made his patience shorter than usual. Connor thought, though, that he'd been managing to quell it. Snappy remarks stayed in his mind, and his fists shook, but weren't hurled into a single thing.  
  
He thought he was doing fine.  
  
Of course he was wrong. He feels like he's wrong about everything lately.  
  
His meal ended with him shooting out of his seat and screaming and cursing at Larry at a volume he hadn't reached in at least a couple weeks. He slammed the front door instead of his bedroom door, his heart beating too fast and his emotions feeling far too big to fit in his body. A scary, bellowing " _come back here, Connor!_ " followed him on the way out, but all he can think about as he walks briskly down the dark street is the tiny, shaken voice from his best friend -- only friend -- that only spoke Connor's name in the form of a question.  
  
_He hates you now, he's scared of you, he's probably having an anxiety attack right now because of you,_  pummels Connor in the head and mixes despair into his simmering rage. He barely notices the tears that sting his eyes because he's staring at his legs as he almost-runs, and they're blurred with movement anyway.  
  
Things are foggy until he notices he's aimlessly reached a convenience store on the corner of a street some blocks away from his house. He doesn't know how long he's been walking for, just that the moon is rising into the deep indigo sky, but he doesn't care enough about the time or the sky to dwell on that thought for more than half a second. He just storms back into the store's almost-empty parking lot and sits and pulls at his hair and cries.   
  
He just wants his mind to stop talking. He wants everything to shut up.  
  
  
  
It's darker when he's managed to pull himself together and light a cigarette with shaky hands. A few stars speckle the sky. As Connor exhales, he notices he doesn't have his phone in his pocket.  _I can't text Evan,_  his mind murmurs. Quickly, that's stifled with,  _Good. He doesn't want to talk to you anyway._    
  
For a long time, save for Connnor's drags of smoke, the world is still. Time doesn't have any meaning if the world doesn't have proof to show it's moving. Nothing feels real. Everything is too static and frozen. Connor wants to punch something just to see it move from the impact, but instead he sucks at his cigarette too aggressively and almost chokes himself on the fumes.  
  
However, with each drag, reality sluggishly melts into something that doesn't shiver as much. Time continues to pass in a somewhat normal way, as do a few cars. Connor watches a young couple come out of the store with snacks, chattering and laughing, cracking lewd jokes as they pack into their car. He doesn't feel irritated at them. He just feels drained and empty.  
  
He lights his third cigarette when he hears something ring across the parking lot.  
  
"Connor?"  
  
The comforting familiarity of the voice is somehow alien to him right now, and so he immediately lifts his head, shocked.  
  
Evan's posture isn't stiff; instead it's alert and a little crouched to the ground, as if he'd been hurriedly looking for something. The street lights illuminate him, so Connor can see that the skin of his stunned face is shining with sweat.  
  
He was looking for him. All this time, he was looking for him.  
  
Guilt swells in Connor's gut, but he also almost feels like crying with relief.  
  
Evan lets out a sigh and starts to quickly step towards him, before uncertainty visibly pulls him to a stop. He's leaning in Connor's direction, though, like he's aching to run to him and hug him.  
  
"Is it okay if -- do -- do you wanna be alone right now?"  
  
No. No, he doesn't. It's the last thing he wants right now.  
  
He wants to answer with those words, but he can't bring himself to, for some reason. So instead of replying, Connor just looks down at the concrete and snuffs out his cigarette against the wall of the store. Evan never says anything about it, but Connor can tell he doesn't like it when he smokes tobacco in front of him.  
  
Letting out another sigh, Evan half-jogs towards Connor, though he tries to disguise it as a walk, and it looks so awkward that it lifts the corners of other's mouth a little.  
  
Evan only eases to a stop when he's close to him, closer than needed for a conversation. His gaze stays at Connor's chest before it rises to his eyes. Evan's breath is coming a little heavy -- from the last traces of anxiety or from jogging the streets, Connor can't tell.   
  
Evan's mouth opens and closes, beginnings of syllables stopping and dying at his mouth. He's wearing an expression conveying something that's trying to be quiet, yet is there all the same. Worry's there, a sad type of worry -- but it's  _just_  muted enough that it's bearable to look at.   
  
Neither of them speak. There's so many things behind the silence, so many things Connor could be hearing but really doesn't want to, that he's sort of grateful for it.  
  
Slowly, the look on Evan's face softens. It becomes a simple stare, softly calculating and a little curious, but calm. Tired. Somber, but relieved.  
  
Connor was being tormented by logicless thoughts he accepted as facts. That Evan wouldn't even get near him after seeing him spit fire across the dinner table, that he'd have to face the consequences and punishments for his outburst on his own without a person to run away with, that he wouldn't have a person to make him smile anymore, that he wouldn't be able to look into leaf green irises or have peaceful company on days where he needed someone to tether him to Earth, that he'd be alone alone alone after what he'd done.  
  
But Evan has seen him at his worst. This almost doesn't mean anything compared to the horrid states of mind Evan has helped him through, whether it was with nervous words that tried their best to be soothing, or a grounding grip on his shoulders, or even just his quiet presence. With every misstep, every inch of accidental, backwards progress that Connor makes, he gets afraid that he's ruined everything, that Evan will leave.   
  
But that's stupid. From every angle, it's a stupid thing to expect from him.  
  
Connor pushed him to the ground when they first met, and then later, lividly accused him of planning to tell everyone how crazy he is. And Evan only got back up and then was stupid (kind) enough to ramble out a terrified run-on sentence of an explanation for that letter, the letter where parts made far too much sense to Connor, and he read words that he knew all too well, words that played over and over in his head sometimes.  
  
This wonderful person he's lucky enough to have met isn't a five-minute blessing. He's a person with wills and goals and a shaky, steady grip, and he's here to stay. He's  _determined_  to stay. So much so that he's willing to look for Connor in the dark, jog through streets a little hazy in his memory, just to know that he's safe and okay.  
  
And there's nothing,  _nothing_  more special to him than that.  
  
Connor isn't usually one for physical affection, but he doesn't know what to do except pull Evan into a gentle hug. The latter lets out a shaky sigh but wraps his arms around him almost instantly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world to do. The notion almost makes Connor buckle down into his arms and choke out a sob.  
  
Instead, he finally speaks with a low, scratchy voice that's a little difficult to call his own. "I'm sorry. You didn't have to look for me. I know you would've rather gone home."  
  
The head on his shoulder moves side to side. "No, it's ... I ... I wouldn't be able to sleep if you weren't ..." Evan exhales. The next words come out softly and easily. "If I didn't know you were okay."  
  
Connor buries his face further into Evan's shoulder. He smells like aloe vera soap and the salt of sweat.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says again, guilt bubbling up to the surface, crushing his voice into something small and whispering. He feels a hand come up to run through his hair.  
  
"It's okay," Evan says genuinely,  _honestly_. Connor can tell it's honest, because it's laced with some pain, some regret. "It's al -- it's okay because  _you're_  okay."  
  
They stay in an embrace for a long time. Time loses meaning again, but in a warm, floaty way that doesn't leave Connor feeling lost or like nothing makes sense. Neither of them talk, but Connor wants to. He wants to say a particular three words that seemed terrifying when he first felt the urge to, but now that he can see it up close,  _feel_  it all around him and in the home of Evan's arms, it doesn't seem so bad.  
  
He keeps his mouth shut, though, and for once there's no bitterness that comes with the action. He won't be satisfied if he says it now. If he does tell him, he wants it to be in a happier context, next to growing plants or sunlight instead of the night and the ashes of tobacco. He rarely regards the thought of confessing; it's so out of reach that Connor sometimes thinks it's better for him -- for both of them -- to shut it out. But right now, he feels braver. Right now, he's willing to entertain the idea, even if briefly. Even if his spontaneous courage will be gone by tomorrow morning.  
  
Neither of them know it, but three minutes pass before Connor talks again.  
  
"Can I stay?"  
  
He's talking about Evan's house, but if he leaves the words be, he could be talking about staying in his arms. Staying his friend. Staying  _like this_. For some reason, Connor doesn't want to cut through the ambiguity.  
  
Evan nods and hugs him tighter.  
  
  
  
Eventually, they do leave, as sleep starts to weigh down on Connor even though Evan tells him it's only 7:44 PM.   
  
As they walk up the sidewalk instead of down towards the Murphy household, Evan takes out his phone and unlocks it. Google Maps is already open. A part of Connor feels bad, but the rest of him is light enough that he can tease him.  
  
"Aren't we not even that far from your house?"  
  
Evan smiles and nudges him with his elbow. "Shut up, it's just for -- just in case. I never leave the house if I don't have to, so I don't know where anywhe -- anything is."  
  
Connor returns the small smile and leaves the conversation at that. The silence is comfortable, but it is a void, and so much more could be filling it than a small, joking whisper about a passerby's outfit, or a yelp when Evan misses a rock he tries to kick down the street, or Connor's soft snickers.   
  
Evan is so, so important to him, so precious, so irreplaceable. Connor wants to tell him this, is upset that he doesn't have the energy or the nerve. So he speaks with actions.  
  
He reaches subtly to his right. Carefully, clumsily, he takes Evan's fingers into his own, and gently reaches for more until his palm is touching Evan's.  
  
A wave of regret seizes him while he does it, self-doubt shouting  _WHAT ARE YOU DOING!_  in his mind. The only thing keeping him from yanking his hand back is the fact that timid, round fingers return the soft grip, and that Connor feels Evan's thumb glide over his knuckles. Evan doesn't let go, even when their hands get uncomfortably sweaty. Neither does Connor.  
  
It takes a higher tier of bravery to glance over at him. Evan is looking down at his shoes. In the dark, Connor can't spot a blush on his face, but he does see his lips. They're stretched delicately upwards into a faint smile.  
  
They don't talk for the rest of the trip, but that's alright. The tug of a smile won't let go of Connor's mouth, either.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i can't say i'm proud of this, this is a pretty messy piece and it ended up having a way sadder tone than i wanted it to. but i finally finished something so why not post it lol
> 
> comments are my lifeblood!!!!!!!! critiques are awesome too, i'm always looking for ways to improve my work!! <33


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